


White Ghost

by syrus_ssic



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Adoption, Assassination Attempt(s), Attempted Murder, Blood and Injury, Canon Trans Character, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Instability, Mirage | Elliott Witt & Wraith | Renee Blasey Friendship, Mirage | Elliott Witt Being an Idiot, Multi, No Smut, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Male Character, a bit OOC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:01:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29028375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrus_ssic/pseuds/syrus_ssic
Summary: ON HIATUS UNTIL I GET INSPO. FOR THIS AGAINA Titan Pilot is thrust into the future, twenty-two years after the Frontier War has ended. The IMC has been defeated and his faction is extinct. He joins the Apex Games involuntarily and needs help from someone who lived on Talos, to aid him in his journey to reunite with his Titan.-Original Character story, no slash with any of the characters.-
Relationships: Caustic | Alexander Nox/Horizon | Mary Somers, Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Wattson | Natalie Paquette, Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	1. Unveil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MC gets captured by Bloodhound and dear old Pathfinder. Starts in the middle of the action when MC is running away from the crash site of his ship with a broken ankle and several minor lacerations.
> 
> I plan to write more- it's just that it looks like a lot to me because I write on google docs.

  
The scream that ripped out of Ira's throat was primal. It had a raw intensity to it that told of urgency, of desperate need. He didn’t grow up in an environment where there were safety cribs and cuddly toys. All that he knew was that Gill was nowhere close to protect him and he was as scared as a child caught in the crossfires of war.

Ira picked himself back up with the strength of a branch, feeling like his ankle would snap apart again. Putting pressure on said injury was pure agony-

He smothered his mouth with a hand when his HUD alerted him to nearby unknown organisms. It was a stupid move, hiding down low to the fallen foliage in a pathetic attempt to hide from oncoming intruders. The adrenaline blocked the pain from his ankle, but now that he had thought he had gotten away…

_**Sonar Detected.** _

They’ve been tracking him. 

Fuck-

The blood never stopped flowing out of his minor wounds too, despite applying whatever scanty first aid he bothered to learn. His sleeves were already gone, his socks had been the first to go.

The voices that he thought he had gotten away from got louder as they drew near and Ira could only stumble around in a blind panic before limping away into a dense cluster of bushes. He panted heavily, blood freely running down his face and over an eye. This led to Ira failing to see the upturned root on the animal path, yelping when he stumbled.

The yellow optic of a MRVN and the red glowing goggles of a beast illuminated the darkness somewhat. The light washed over everything until settling upon on his prone form. They had found him and Ira had to submit. If he didn’t, surely he would’ve been gunned down or even kidnapped and tortured. After all, that’s what every leader preached when sending out their soldiers into battle with metahumans, robots, and deadly war machines.

_If only Gill was here._

As the MRVN _(a model that Ira had never seen before)_ loomed over him with the menacing figure of an androgynous person at its side, Ira desperately tried to hide how fearful he was. He couldn’t control the tremor in his voice as he made weak, unheard pleas. He couldn’t consciously will his twitching to stop. He shivered like a man in the coldest northern camps, his muscles jumping at every exhale from the person’s mask.

“I think we should bring him back to the base, Bloodhound. I have never seen him before in the Games, he may be a civilian who snuck in.”

A pause.

“Or it’s a lost civilian playing dress-up.”

Ira tensed, but did not move.

 _“You may be right, Félagi.”_ The person extended a hand to Ira, an invitation to get up.

_“I do not know who you are, or what your intentions might be, but I will not break my oath. Helping the defenseless when they are unable to fend for themselves.”_

Ira Kane _before the crash_ would take the hand and thank the person generously. Now, all he wanted to do was pull out his R-201 and gun them both down. But he couldn’t. _Can’t_. His extremities were freezing and he wasn’t sure if he was calm enough to speak without stutters.

They reached down and easily hauled him up, ignoring his reluctance, seeming surprised at how much Ira trembled with the effort of standing. He felt dizzy, the world tilting every time he moved his head. Almost like the time he accepted a joint with a medical strand of...whatever was in it. Marijuana and something else.

Ira now stood between the two strangers, his hands tied securely with a stasis cuff behind his back. Apparently, something they were told to carry recently, due to the number of people trying to swarm the dropship after the arrival of an attractive Legend. 

Or so the MRVN said. Sure. MRVNs were nice and simple. But the ones he had faced...not so nice. Maybe this MRVN was like those ones. Smart and unreliable. He talked a lot.

If Gill was ‘awake’, Ira would have received a mental lash _(which felt like someone backhanded his brain)_ for the inane rambling...

His weapons had been strapped to the MRVN- _Pathfinder, he was joyfully told_ \- so fighting back was not an option. He was crippled with his wounds and he was relying on these two to help him stand upright so even if he did manage to run away he would probably kiss the ground and whisper lewd things into it. 

Cold gloved hands were placed on either side of Ira’s neck, probing for something and Ira stilled. 

_“If you plan to kill me, just-just d-do it quickly. I heard what you said and- and- and although you said you wouldn’t- it sure doesn’t seem like-like it right now,”_ he babbled, his anxiety skyrocketing when the hands pressed a bit harder. The broken voice synthesizer made him sound like he smoked cigarettes for most of his life. Straight out of the womb and into the tomb.

Ira was hushed- _the mask the person wore huffed a breath of warm air against the back of his neck_ \- as he felt icy fingers probe at his pulse again, staying there, probably counting the BPM. The fingers were removed but they hooked under his helmet. He flinched back, pushing into the MRVN who held him tightly but couldn’t escape the chasing hands.

_Was this how cats felt? Not wanting to be pet while being pursued by beings that could kill him if they wished to do so?_

Fear slid into his heart, an iron grip that threatened to make him faint. More so than the blood loss. How silly. He survived the war and for what- to die under some stranger’s hands because he got too wussy to show his face?

The cool air made Ira hiss, but why did his face feel sticky? Oh fuck, it was because of the blood wasn’t it? Didn’t he tear his cheek open sometime during freefall?

* * *

Bloodhound had expected a somewhat normal-looking face underneath that cracked visor. Not the torn-up face of a _child!_

Youthful, heterochromatic eyes squinted up at them before focusing the intense stare at Pathfinder. They expected outright hostility, not some glare that had probably been used on the boy's elders. They had just assumed that the male was just short, almost Octane’s height, and sounding much older than he was tall because of the voice. But looking at the round face of the boy that stared back at them...Bloodhound felt sick at the thought of someone younger than Renee.

Was he tossed into here as a joke by rude peers? Or did was he just another fan who wanted to help their favourite Legend in battle? Bloodhound assessed the gear he wore, finding it to be an actual suit of armour of some sort. Like their own, but seemly for agility and close combat. The marred orange chest piece had a few shallow weapon cuts embedded into the sides and lots of bullet patches decorating the front. _Interesting_.

The boy gave a groan when Pathfinder tugged him forwards, using encouraging words to make their impromptu hostage move. Bloodhound understood why. The dropship was coming to pick him up and drag him back to wherever he came from. 

Then after what seemed like hours, when it was actually just a mere thirty minutes, the two Legends had handed off the boy to a pair of emergency nurses. They hauled the boy off and into the belly of the metal flying beast, the sounds of his whimpers fading.

Logically, Bloodhound knew that it was just a fan and should be forgotten about because they meant nothing to the Games. But as the pair returned to the sight where Bloodhound had found a pathetic bloody mess of a human...

They just couldn't get him out of their head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be no romantic slash between my OC and literally any character I mention in this story. There will be, however, very nice bonding moments between said OC and a few select characters. All platonic I swear. I couldn't write romance if I wanted to.
> 
> I'm kidding. I'm renowned for those types of scenes from Quotev. Which that skill will be used to write romantic scenes for Apex/Apex slashes.


	2. Embarrassment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ira meets Kuben Blisk and gets pubically humiliated. 
> 
> (Sorry for any weird formatting, phone layout is much harder to work with than laptop format.)

_ “Gill. Gilly boy. Hey.” Ira snapped his fingers at the mech who firmly ignored him. His fingernails were covered in dried blood, flakes coming off from the snapping. _

_ “Gill I want to tell you something. S...Something important.” _

_ The Titan just gave an exaggerated ex-vent and didn’t move to face Ira, but two cameras focused on the Pilot. Ira smiled at the attention, one side of his face droopy and unresponsive. _

_ “I wanna th-thank you for savin’ me earlier,” he slurred. Ira motioned to his stump of an elbow, charred and crispy. Like how his brother used to cook any type of meat.  
_

_ He wasn’t being rude though, to Gill, he was just trying to lighten the gloomy mood by comparing something he found funny to something so horrific that he didn’t even remember. _

_ He didn’t expect a verbal answer, but knew by the weak mental pulse he received over the Link was that Gill had returned the kindness. _

* * *

When Ira woke up from one of the best sleeps he ever had in his life ( _ God, since when was his bed so comfortable? _ ), he fully expected to see either his lovely white room ceiling or perhaps the familiar interior of his Titan. 

He was thus justifiably confused when instead of both options, what he was looking at was a dark metal ceiling that was much closer to his head than what he was usually used to. Which meant it was a small room. Because he was short. 

Ira groaned a bit when pushing himself upright, feeling his ankle throb with the movement. Then he ( _ gently _ ) swung his legs over the edge of what seemed like a standard cell cot. It was very nice too. And his elated mood crashed when he remembered just how he got here. Or what happened to lead him to here.

Looking back on his behaviour, Ira justified that his stuttering totally had nothing to do with the fact that there were two strong people looking at little Ol’ Ira. Who wouldn’t just beg for mercy or their life when they were seconds away from being shot point blank like an old horse being retired from the tracks?

Him. Because he was a coward. A good enough one that lead him here, to this mystery cell, with all of his wounds patched up and his suit-

Ira frantically patted himself down, just feeling the unfamiliar jumpsuit of some rando and not the feeling of battle-worn Pilot gear. He gripped the rough fabric tightly as his breath hitched.

Fuck. They’ll know about the implant.

**_"Pilot, desist from panicking. Your pulse rate has risen to dangerous levels."_ **

The Titan’s tone was chastising, scolding him like a tired parent would to their rambunctious child. Ira felt his anxiety lessen a bit, muscles slowly unwinding under the deep baritone of Gill’s voice. Forcing himself to take deep breaths, Ira gripped the edge of the cot tightly instead of his shirt thing. 

He was here, trapped in a cell, without Gill. This wasn't good. In fact, It was simply amazing that he was even tolerating this pain. Oh.

He scrunched his eyes shut, trying to grasp what he’d been thinking about before the pain part. The recent thoughts were now muddled and warm and out of grasp- sinking low underneath that deceptive conscience of his.

He let go of the cot with a frustrated sigh, instead reaching up to rub at his eyes. 

If Gill hesitated to let Ira out of his sight before, after this stunt he was sure to go full on Vulture-Mom mode on Ira now.  Goodbye freedom, Ira was sure he was going to be followed everywhere for eternity from that day onwards. 

That is,  _ if _ he got back.

The only door that was the escape from this cell abruptly slammed open, startling Ira in the process which lead to a pained “eep!” because he basically just poked out his own eyes. Stupid stupid stupid-

“Get out.”  
  


Ira blinked at the harsh command. When the person ( _ shrouded in shadows, no identifiable gear yet _ ) reloaded what sounded like a heavy shotgun, he wisely got up ( _ slowly _ ) and hobbled his way over to them. They greeted him by slapping on another pair of handcuffs and shoving the shotgun against the back of his head.

Rude.

Ira winced when he felt the snake strike of anger, letting his sheepish emotions seep through the firewalls Gill had put up. 

_ He had to be serious and stay alive. _

Right. Right. He could do that.

What he couldn’t do apparently was the skill to keep an eye on his surroundings. Being aware.

An office room stood before him, elegant wood archways and black bookshelves filled with books. Amazing. And the man who sat in the middle was...eugh...Kuben Blisk.

The atmosphere was tense and Ira felt the older man’s eyes on him. He felt a laugh bubbling up from his throat when Kuben hacked from the cigarette thing he was smoking, and Ira’s hand twitched as Ira struggled to keep the laugh down.

“Take off your clothes and give them to me,” demanded Kuben. Ira stopped for a second, a little startled. Kuben was staring at him, still and firm. “Hurry up.”

There was the nudge of a gun against his hip and Ira felt his neck flush. Oh, that was an order. Ira remembered something called negative reinforcement, ensuring a desired stimulus by making the subject do something undesirable or annoying. Or something like that. His mother never taught him all four subjects correctly.

Ira glanced at the wide open window, and back at Kuben Blisk who was still staring at him, his expression growing sterner, like he was daring Ira to make him repeat himself.

He breathed in, and took his shirt off. As he continued undressing, he kept his gaze on the floor, his hands shaking a little. He had already been naked in front of other guys in the locker room nearly a year ago, he just had to convince himself that this was the same. 

Ira tried not to feel embarrassed when the guard behind him coughed quietly,reminding him that there were more than himself and Blisk here but as much as he reasoned, he couldn’t look up, and he felt angry at himself for this. He wasn’t supposed to have doubts!

“Look at me, kid.”

Ira tried to do as he was told and looked up at Blisk, but each time he met his eyes directly, a wave of embarrassment would wash over him and he would avert his gaze, trying not to make it obvious he was indiscreetly hiding his chest. God, why was this so difficult?

“Ira.” Sterner tone and Ira finally locked eyes with the offender.

“Sir?”

He’d heard horror stories about this man, seeing as his father used to work under Blisk for a short time. It was good to be polite. It got you places where fighting didn’t.

“I think it’s time we’ve had a little..talk about your arrival and your Pilot gear.”

Ira felt his blood run cold when a gloved hand hauled him down to sit before Blisk. The guard backed up when Kuben gave the man a heated glare just because the guard didn’t let go immediately.

Then those eyes turned to him and he felt like a small child again, sitting in the principal's office for a crime he didn’t commit.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Hellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ira tries to contact his Titan, fails to, and runs for his life when the opportunity presented itself.   
> Then the POV switches to Mirage after Bloodhound and Pathfinder had dropped Ira off.
> 
> (Endnotes contain information on what this previously mentioned "Link" is, why there's gonna be legends involved in the current place and why Kuben Blisk just humiliated Ira in the previous chapter. Hope it clears some things up.)

Ira had left the office with a furious blush on his face and a hand firmly clasped back over the collar of the zipped up and reclaimed jumpsuit. He was lucky it was only the suit that was forced to go, leaving him clad in nothing else but boxers, and prayed to whatever deity that was listening that that certain scenario would never happen again. He shivered a bit at just the thought of it.

A rugged hand shoved him into the cell he had been in before the meet, leaving his skin tingling at the contact. Ew. Did the dude just not wash his hands often? Or was he that dirty that stuff didn’t feel right on his skin? A quick glance downwards at himself made Ira involuntarily gag.

God, he felt disgusting. Maybe a shower would do him good. And then he could check up on Gill, seeing as though the other is still online. He discarded the jumpsuit for the second time that day and opened the small curtain to the shower that was in the cell. Gritty hands attempted to turn the rusted knob of whatever poorly-cared for common washroom this was before he gave it a hard tug to the  _ left  _ and ice-cold water dribbled out of the showerhead.

Actually, “ _ dribbled _ ” might have been an understatement. Maybe the word “ _ gushed _ ” was better.

The cold seemed to seep into his pores, only to meet the warmth of his blood, his defense against such metaphorical ice. He can feel it wash over his skin, again and again as he begins to scrub himself down with water and fists, only for the cold to be stopped by the beat of his heart again and again.

He finishes his pathetic shower by shaking out his hair like a mutt, after struggling to turn off the shower. And then prepares himself for the pain he might feel during sleep. Scratch that. He will feel anguish and pain- because he is human and Gill is not. Gill does not have pain receptors or organs that pulse with blood. 

But he can just somehow feel the  _ exact _ feelings of whatever the Titan felt on any occasion. One example would be when Gill had to undergo repairs after a scouting mission, and Ira vividly recalls himself calling the Titan nasty slurs when the pain of what felt like his bones rotating into place with his skin on fire had hit the man in the middle of the night. Or when Gill couldn’t stop complaining of what felt like viruses in his system when Ira caught the flu and made the Titan swear to keep any discomfort away while they were scouting for resources.

He smiled at the memories, before forcing his face to fall slack and neutral at the reminder of what he had to do. Ira curled over the small cot, tucking his knees under his chin, and almost cringed back at the beginning feelings of what Gill was already projecting back to him. 

_ In the darkness of his mind, he wasn’t alone. He used to be when he was young, but now he wasn’t. He doesn’t know what he would do if Gill suddenly died- leaving Ira alone within his dreams. The overwhelming darkness of Gill’s consciousness began to loom over him, it basically threatened to smother Ira under the ‘weight’, but it never did. It was a comforting thing in the murky territory of the Link, a place that manifested itself when Titan and Pilot were not able to use the Link to their full extent. Ira prodded the large presence and felt a small shock of static travel up his arm at the contact.  _

_ The darkness answered his unasked question, covering Ira in an EM field of uncertainty that made Ira’s skin ripple with goosebumps and his hair stand on end. The Titan was unsure of where he was and was unsure how far apart the two were. They were close, but not close enough to control the other to the dominant Linked position. _

**_Maybe if_ ** _ \- Ira had only done this once before. He was scared if it would work again. His hand pressed against the unmoving mass of a Titan, feeling his skin prickle at the electrical touch. The feeling never ceased to amaze him, and Ira pressed his hand inwards when the darkness accepted the foreign thing. And was too late to react to the Titan’s sudden hostility. _

Ira jolted upwards with a scream, holding his hand tightly against his stomach. He quickly held it up, inspecting it every which way until his paranoia and fear simmered down to bubble at the back of his mind. The skin was red and raw, looking like he’d sat on it during the winter and it lost feeling. Or a raw chicken. Whichever was closer to what his hand looked like.

The small camera in the corner by the door had zeroed in on him, meaning that someone was probably watching him and maybe sent another guard to check up on him. After all, you can’t just have some hysteric time-traveler kill themselves in isolation.

He wasn’t dead, and didn’t feel like giving up on everything just yet. Only with Gill. But maybe it looked like-

The lights abruptly turned on, blinding and bright, and a trio of three heavily armed guards burst into the cell. They cautiously walked in, leaving an open gap in their formation and Ira got a brilliant plan that may or may not leave him with horrible injuries. He felt adrenaline begin to fill his heart at the prospect of danger. 

They expected hostility, not submission. So when Ira walked to them with his hands in the air- willingly- and crouched before them, they didn’t expect him to launch himself over their shoulders and right through their form. He wasn’t a Grapple Pilot for nothing.

And Ira ran out with three guards nipping at his ankles like annoying small dogs and wearing nothing but boxers. 

* * *

After Mirage had caught up to his two squadmates, out of breath, he asked them why they suddenly detoured from their original path. 

Pathfinder-  _ that stupid happy-go-lucky robot _ \- had just cheerily told him it was nothing to worry about while Bloodhound just ignored his question completely. So this meant it was something important enough for them to contact the higher-ups or whatever, or something that wasn’t worth thinking about. He thought about the dropship that arrived at the duo’s location earlier. Maybe Bloodhound was sick and needed medicine?

He shook his head,  _ carefully- he didn’t want to mess up his hair _ , to clear his head of those thoughts. Whatever. Now was the time to focus, seeing as there were only two squads left. One squad being them. Bloodhound took a second too long to answer his questions, seeming hesitant about something. 

But Mirage just shook Bloodhound's strange behaviour off to them being nervous, or just because they were worried that the other team would go hard on them because  Pathfinder was the kill leader. Or maybe that was his own worries. Hah. Stupid robot and his ten kill streak.

They all agreed to split up, seeing as two of them could easily relocate back to a chosen hidden location and Mirage was left to his devices as he was left to guard said location. OK. That was good. He was good at, uh, defending. Yes. Totally.

His sniper was weak, just a charge rifle with a bad scope, leaving him to wonder where this team was. They were in the ring, and the other team was speculated to be lingering on the very outside of the said ring. And his team had the advantage, looking down on this empty expanse of a field with the tower mostly taken over by the storm.

His alternator had high-tier everything except a good stock. It didn’t even have a-

A bullet grazed his shoulder from above, tearing fabric and knocking down his meager blue shield. His heart dropped into his stomach when an orange orb exploded right onto him and fear flooded his being when he felt another bullet graze his skin. Barely missing his head. 

Fuck. The tower. How the hell did the other team get up there?!

He stripped away his guns and ran off to where Pathfinder had grappled to. He twisted, jumped, and slid to avoid the gun fall that rained down on him. He had no shields or bombs, and he couldn’t even use his damn ult right now! He would've been able to bamboozle them all and escape to the safety of his teammates, not left here out to sundry!

Oh god, he was gonna die.

The sound of Octane’s stim was really close and Mirage knew that if he spent precious time turning around to look, he would die.  _ Oh god, Oh god, Oh god-  _ Mirage cried out when the sniper finally hit their mark, falling to his knees and holding a hand over the wound. Fuck. He didn’t even have a shield to protect himself on the ground.

He turned watery eyes up to his killer, watching Wraith, flanked by Revenant and Octane, saunter up to him with a satisfied smirk. He smiled back at the obvious taunt, the ‘I finally got revenge’ thing. Maybe he shouldn’t have left her to die back in Olympus…

Now, Mirage wasn’t that brave of a man. Yes, he was strong in his own ways. But being shoved into a portal probably leading off the map? You’d scream too.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so if anybody paid attention to when Ira talks/thinks about himself and his Titan, you'd notice that there's something called a Link. 
> 
> Considering that the Pilot helmets are basically a direct communication thing for a pilot and titan to talk to each other, I made up a thing that Pilots had to get a special implant installed into the base of their neck/center of their nervous system and hardwired to the brain. This ensures that Pilots are unable to bond with any new titans, and titans are unable to be hijacked by new pilots of enemy factions. And since everything is neurons and electrical signals, a Pilot and Titan are able to talk to each other without the helmet- which Ira does not have in this chapter. Or in the previous chapter.  
> This was implemented near the last few years of the war so after Titanfall 2, so Jack Cooper and Blisk haven't had this happen to them.
> 
> Currently, the story is set inside a reformatted old IMC base. The Legends all occupy one wing with rooms and whatnot, while they wait for another drop ship to transfer them all to a new location or to go home if the schedule was interrupted. (They just got back from King's Canyon after Mirage's team wins. Or loses. Up to you.)
> 
> Kuben Blisk, being a former Pilot and faction leader, recognizes the tech similar to the things he wore/used in his golden age. And seeing that Ira is not an old man, only two years younger than Rampart, he just couldn't beat up the guy and expect him to get back up and talk.


	4. Reverb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ira meets Horizon, develops a fear of Caustic (who wouldn't), and breaks into Revenant's seemingly empty room before being "greeted" by said owner of the room. He learns their names next chapter.

_ “Ma, I'm quitting school.” _

_ “What? Why? I spent all that money-” _

_ “What money, ma? You’re broke. Ever since dad left and...and took everything, you’ve been whoring yourself out just to get the bills paid.” _

_ His mother went silent, tears starting to build up in her beautiful hazel eyes. Ira placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. _

_ “That’s what I thought. Now, I’m gonna join the war and get you money, and then I can retire once you have at least three new houses. I’m young, I got time for this.” _

* * *

If you asked Ira Kane, the youngest Grapple Pilot recorded when he was drafted, why he was stuck between two bickering middle-aged adults who looked like they haven’t slept for the past week- he wouldn’t be able to tell you a clear answer.

The man would eye him in a cold, analytical way- like a doctor or scientist- before the woman would step in front of the man’s gaze- blocking Ira from those gross eyes- which would lead to a minute of forced eye contact between the adults before he looked at Ira again.

“Would ya stop that, Mr. Nox! You’re scaring him!”

“Oh please, I think he’s already frightened enough by you and you alone.”

Had Ira been in clothes, he would have excused himself away from their argument or whatever they were talking about. But no. He just had to draw attention to himself and then act like a freshman in a new school when a kind lady offered help. Thank god the guards left. More so, they suddenly stopped chasing him and walked away. He had a feeling that it was an order from that man- and not them feeling sorry for Ira.

“-jus’ look at him! He’s new! You don’t need to be so hostile. No wonder why you’re a loner.”

The woman spun around once the man just grunted and left, seemingly giving up on trying to corner Ira, and gently snapping her fingers to get Ira’s attention. He averted his gaze from his retreating form, slowly looking up in her general direction but not looking at her directly.

She must have noticed the lack of eye contact, but she just waved a dismissive hand.

“Gosh deary, don’t let Caustic getcha down. He’s just a sour old man who probably hasn’t talked to someone his own age for a long time.”

He didn’t want to speak, not in front of these people. Just because Kuben had forced him to speak, adding to his humiliation, it didn’t mean that he needed to speak. So, he just nodded at her words dumbly. Maybe she’ll get bored and leave him alone?

The woman just smiled at his hesitance before straightening upright. She dug around in a side satchel he didn’t notice before, pulled out a notepad, and wrote something on it before handing it to Ira. He took it after a moment- seeing if she was going to just drop it and leave, and that she wasn’t moving from her position when he didn’t make a grab for it immediately. 

“That’s my room number. Come by later when you’re…” She motioned to his body with a giggle. “When you’re decent. I'll tell you what the others told me when I joined a couple of months ago. And sorry again, I didn’t mean to make Mr.Nox corner yah. I thought’chu were another one of  _ those  _ fans.”

That’s what Pathfinder and that mystery person, Bloodhound, said too. That some fans attempted to break into the bases or games. Huh. Were these people that popular? He flushed with embarrassment when he realized that the woman thought he was just parading around like this, mostly naked with boxers, willingly.

The woman just bid him goodbye and a final wave before walking off to who knows where. More specifically, down the hall to the left. Where that Nox fellow went.

Ira sighed when he felt a flash of annoyance, _ another’s emotions and not his _ , at how he kept getting into humiliating situations. It wasn’t his fault that he was here! If Gill hadn’t gotten them lost in space, then they’d be back with Barker and fighting those stupid IMC and Militia groups that keep trying to bring their war to the ACES territory. Just because their stupid planet had blown up with a fold weapon backfiring. 

Ira hid behind a shelf when a group of bickering individuals approached, two of them louder than the third. The loudest one whooped when apparently someone relented about something, sprinting away on robotic legs. Maybe he was a Stim Pilot? The two others broke apart, saying goodbye to each other before going the way that the woman went.  Maybe he should avoid the main lobby and just lurk through the more discreet rooms because hiding here would get him nowhere. And then he could find a place to get his clothes or someone else’s clothes. He didn’t really care if he stole someone’s things right now, he’d find a way to return them later. God, he can feel the camera’s following his every move. It made the hair on the back of his stand on end, prickling with anxiety.  And he couldn’t stop the growing feeling that something was wrong and he was being followed. But every time he looked back, or around, nobody was there. Maybe it was a guard just monitoring him. As a test of some sort. Or maybe it was Gill and Gill was being followed. Huh. Serves him right, big fucking Titan that he is. 

He had decided to follow the people that went down that hallway and wasn’t surprised to see a cluster of soldier barracks, looking like it had been reformed to accommodate the massive changes to the rooms. One room had a glass window beside the door, and Ira ducked down before the person inside turned around with a flask of something. Fuck. It was that Nox guy.

Ira heard a door open at the end of the hallway, and he froze. How could he be so stupid? Of course, he just had to walk in the hallway. If he had his gear he could have just wall run until it was safe. But...Ira eyed the door where Nox was. He hadn't done this since he was a _Kleiner Junge._ He felt that stupid childish excitement course through his veins as he reached up a tentative hand and knocked. Three short raps, harsh and loud, were more than enough when Nox startled from inside, hurriedly put away the chemicals, taking off his biohazard-

_Yeah, maybe he should run now._

Ira was already skirting around a corner when Nox slammed open the door, a foreign name shouted loud and clear for all to hear. Maybe there was a prankster here? Even better. Thank god he ran quietly, everyone would hear the slap of flesh against metal tiles. Embarrassing. The lights under each door were becoming scarce until he stopped at the only one with no lights showing underneath. It was pretty secluded, being at the very end of the hall with a broken light above it. He felt like he was in a horror movie and about to meet his untimely demise for a stupid decision.

But this wasn't stupid, it was something he needed to do. Get clothes and get out of this place. He didn't care about what could happen if he got caught. He just needed to get back to Gill and go home.

The door swung open on well-oiled hinges, the meager light from outside only illuminating a tiny section of the dark room. As he tentatively stepped in, Ira swore on any God that was listening that he heard what sounded like a metal spider. Or something. Little metal tip-taps just soft enough to be dismissed as machinery or pipes. But he wasn't chickening out now. He had already done so much. Ira had only taken a few steps into the room, feeling around for a light switch, before he screamed when the door slammed shut. Ghosts?!

No. Stop. That's childish, he thought to himself. But he did drag his Titan's mental presence over his own, like a big umbrella to shield him from rain. With a deep breath, and unable to see in the darkness, he began to snap his fingers and _listen_. Echolocation. Helped him win hide and seek in the dark when he was younger. His growing confidence was at its peak when it seemed like something heavy and not the wall was in front of him. Ha! Maybe it was a closet. He felt a heavy weight in his stomach, something that wasn't created by the jumpscare the closer he moved to what he believed the object to be.

His other hand came up to feel the "closet", and death seemed like a good option when his hand reached up and smoothed over a humanoid face. And that feeling intensified by ten thousand when orange optics activated and looked down at him.

If you cornered Ira and questioned him about this moment, he'd probably deny that he ever met the ever-illusive Revenant that way and pissed his pants in fear.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated, I'm just trying my best to get each Legend's characterization right without being a bit too OOC for them.
> 
> And surprise! Ira Kane is younger than Rampart. He quit school before grade twelve and smuggled himself into the ACES faction (where his uncle served and still lived) before he turned 18. He's short and youthful, making his true age hard to discern to strangers. Blame good genetics, not him.


	5. Interlude: GK-2411

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > Override code Beta-Gamma-Gamma
> 
> The Titan awakens.

...Initializing systems operation.

Power core output: **_.001%_**

Stasis lock retrieval:  **_Commencing..._ **

Access approved. Unlocking: Core moderator program...running...

Complete. Connection made. Power core output:  **_2.34445%_ **

Charging...power core output:  **_3.112%_ **

Initialize full systems scan: **_Running..._ **

...

Structural integrity:  **_100%_ **

Electrical systems:  **_All circuits closed. 6.3453 million megavolts. Charging..._ **

Sensor array:  **_100%. Reviewing sensory input..._ **

Error. Insufficient power. Secondary core moderator program:  **_Online_ ** .

...charging...

Power core output:  **_15.7728%. Stabilizing..._ **

Power core output:  **_34.01%._ **

Threshold reached. Initializing weapons systems...running...

Complete. All weapons online. Unlocking battle protocols...

** Complete. **

Charging...Power core output:  **_42.972%_ **

Initializing personality matrix: **_Ronin Prime._** ** _..running... Central Processing Unit analysis complete._**

Primary function type:  **_Autonomous Titan, Class 3.4. Controller Unit/Primary Master: Pilot, Designation:_ ** **_Ira Kane_ **

Higher-level Communications Unit, Class 14.

Primary designation of unit:  **_Titan, classed GK-2411_ **

Secondary designation of unit:  **_Gill_ **

...Personality matrix stabilized.

...Charging...

Power core output:  **_76.0002%_ **

Running EXE program:  **_Singular target incapacitation, singular target destruction._ **

...Running...

Primary target acquired. Integrating target data file into sensor array...

Imprinting complete. Target locked. Target designation:  **_Kuben Blisk._ **

...Charging...

Power core output:  **_100%_ **

End Stasis lock. Rebooting all systems...

**Complete. Unit: Gill- Status: Online.**

Scanning current location- Primary designation:  **_The Outlands._ ** Secondary Terran designation:  **_Talos_ ** .

Distance to target:  **_4.55723 days_ ** . Situation analysis:  **_Current form unusable._ **

Initializing structural digression:  **_Primary intra-space travel form. Commencing..._ **

Scanning...

Logical error detected.

Scanning…

Error. 

Files encrypted. Source of encryption:  **_Angel City Elite Leader_ ** , designation:  **_Robert “Barker” Taube._ **

**Sending a communication request to Controller Unit/ Primary Master: Ira Kane.**

Waiting...

Reply received.

_ : Argh- Gill why the hell are you trying to use my comms? I don’t have my gear. It was stolen. You’re lucky that I agreed to that stupid implant…: _

Controller Unit/Primary Master: Ira Kane, communication hesitance.

Query?

_ : You stupid- Fuck. Fine. Activate Protocol 3, Ira Kane is in severe danger.: _

A cracked optic flickered on, and a sickly red glow illuminated the night. The Ronin’s engine gave a shuddering sigh as it began to cycle the frigid night air. Its hands flexed around the hilt of its blade, and the handle of the broken shotgun. Gyros fought against stiff stabilizers and the Ronin teetered dangerously on weak legs. The ground seemed to tremble under the wrath that the Titan had.

Once the world panned out evenly, the Ronin brandished its sword as it began to follow the transmitter signal his master’s Pilot gear was emitting. Like a moth to the flame. Or rather- the flame to the moth.

His Pilot’s kidnapping will not be treated lightly. 

**Objective: Protocol 3, Protect the Pilot.**

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm struggling with the events that happen after Ira encounters Revenant, so I kinda wrote this to add some more depth to the little thing between Ira and Gill. (And to avoid writing the chapter after this-)
> 
> At least Ira doesn't have to worry so much now...right? Also, *most* of the story happens shortly before, in the current season 8 comics, Fuse, Bloodhound, and Lifeline get kidnapped.


	6. Immobilized...with terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ira gets freaked out by Revenant, saved by Pathfinder, and gets stuck thinking back on a traumatic moment in his life shortly after joining the Angel City Elite faction. And discovers that he is perpetually afraid of everyone.

“You’re new.”

The robot’s voice was deep and metallic, sounding like one of those edgy villains from old earth movies. Or maybe like he gargled rocks in the morning or swallowed a cheese grater.

“Nobody has dared to enter my premises, and the ones that did had remembered that they were just pathetic skin bags. Blood seeping through their fingers as they clutched the empty space where their heart had resided.” It laughed, the amusement ending with a grating cough and static temporarily filling the automated voice. A cold metal finger trailed over Ira’s face, resting just over a healing bruise. And Ira flinched when the finger suddenly pressed down. Geez. Villain monologue?

If Ira were to attack, or retaliate against this creepy touching now, this thing would kill him. If the threat and statement were to be believed. He had a feeling this robot didn’t bluff. Just a simple swipe of those deadly blade-like fingers and Ira would be with his god before his body could crumple to the floor. He shuddered when the robot began to drag all its fingers along his face- tracing his eyebrows and dragging across his cheekbones. 

"It's okay to be afraid," the robot crooned in a condescending tone. "You can scream and nobody would hear you."

Their eyes met when Ira gave out a stuttering sigh, the cold orange gaze freezing Ira in place. But it didn’t halt the single, fleeting thought of  _ “I’ve dreamt of something like this before”.  _ The universal deja-vu feeling fell over him like a weighted blanket- smothering any other feeling. The spidery feeling made him shiver again- wanting to rub away the bumps on his arms so he settled for looking away from the thing that was setting off every single primal instinct Ira had to run from the predator and cower in fear.

The robot grunted when Ira quickly averted his gaze, resuming the previous motion of dragging its fingers down Ira’s face. Did this thing not come into contact with humans? Despite being in a barrack full of them…? Ira kept his expression neutral- fighting against the sudden hysteria of a robot being touch starved like a loner. 

Ira took a quick peek at what the  _ other  _ hand was doing. And he gulped. The robot’s second hand was slowly morphing into something that looked like a knife, the same time the hand touching him began to grip his shoulder and slide over to his throat. 

Ira suppressed a shiver, his skin flaring with goosebumps again. He needed to get away from this maniac. This thing was insane! Who started feeling up a stranger the moment they accidentally break into your room? This isn't right. He just needed clothes, and he wasn’t above asking this creepy robot for that loincloth he wore. Maybe this thing could stab him and he’d be out of this mess. But that would leave Gill stranded alone.

The lights flicked on- leaving Ira scrabbling to cover his boxers and the robot to hiss. Like some sort of demonic demon vampire. Gross. Both human and robot turned wide eyes to the one who turned on said lights. 

And were greeted with another robot- that MRVN. Pathfinder. 

“Greetings Revenant! And…” The little screen on Pathfinder filled up with question marks at the sight of Ira- that lone yellow optic circulating and focusing on him. “And the mystery person I met exactly two days ago! Why are you naked?”

Ira just shrugged, nudging Revenant’s hand off of him while the red robot was stunned. And went to stand beside the blue robot. At least this robot didn’t molest him at first sight. Even at the mention of that, Ira felt a gross feeling stewing in his stomach, rising into his heart and chilling him to the core. He noticed that the red robot was much more... _ disturbing _ in the light than under dim illumination of its optics. 

A Synthetic Nightmare, wearing an eerily humanlike face with a white skull marking, unmoving lips, and unblinking eyes. Optics. He had a frame like Ash, the bitch who Ira’s friend had worshipped back when they were young. A simulacrum. Once human, forever robot. Usually, they were created because they had skills, valuable information, or even just a favored worker or family friend. Ira felt a lump rise in his throat at the implications of a simulacrum in a place like this. 

What did Blisk need with another simulacrum? Was Ash deactivated? 

Ira did not want to think about this while he still had help. He was 99 percent sure that Pathfinder would be more inclined to help Ira at the drop of a hat and not help Revenant. 

He turned to Pathfinder, shoulders tense and his hands clenched into fists. His knuckle tendons strained at the action, slipping around each side of the bone. The hair on the back of his neck prickled at an unwanted sensation, and Ira knew that thing was looking at him. God, this was how he felt when he ‘tamed’ his Titan. It’s like turning your back on a lion when you’re nothing but a juicy steak. Everyone expects the lion to tear into you, but what if it was trained? What if it knew not to eat the measly morsel of food that is designated as a friend?

“Can we leave? I need your help with something.” He insisted, not wanting to stay near the red robot any longer. 

“Of course! I remember having to help Loba when she first came here unexpectedly too.”

The name brought out a pang in his heart, a sick feeling pooling in his stomach. He didn’t want to talk to this Loba lady either. God, was there anybody here that didn’t make him nauseous at the mere mention of them? He hadn’t even met this woman!

He found himself being led towards the door when Pathfinder noticed that Revenant was stalking closer, a metal arm carefully thrown over his trembling shoulders and pressing him against the cold chassis of the blue robot. As he followed the peppy MRVN, making sure that the damn door was closed behind them both so that things couldn’t follow, Ira couldn’t help but think of how to befriend people so they can help him in his journey to reunite with Gill. 

He was stranded on an unfamiliar planet with strange people and a grumpy, old Blisk. Seems like Pathfinder was already somewhat of an acquaintance, but Ira felt like the robot didn’t have an entire understanding of the wilderness. He needed someone who did. Ira fell into his musings, failing to hear the chatter that Pathfinder threw at him- careless if the human heard or not.

* * *

_ Ira remembered when he was first sent on a scouting mission with Gill. They were sent to a remote desert-like location- looking for any survivors among the destruction that the IMC had caused to a small settlement. Ira remembered having to haul dead bodies into a large pile, forcibly closing eyes and trying to not break bones long after rigor mortis had set in. _

_ He remembered seeing a few children- their squashed bodies huddled underneath their rotting parents. He remembered gathering as much native flora he could gather and giving each deceased person one. He was not as spiritual as most, but he did believe that their souls were well on their way to what his father used to call “The Allfather”- a god who ruled over everything and other gods and monstrous creatures of old. Or something like that. _

_ His mother wanted everything about his father gone- even if she had to smack Ira around a bit before he got the unspoken threat. Giving up ideals and beliefs of a loved one. Heartless. _

_ He remembered getting ambushed by a waiting spy. One of those stupid attacker droid MRVNs. It had leapt up from behind a crumbled wall, using its built-in weapons to stun Ira and use enough force to break a couple of ribs. The pain had been so bad, he remembered calling for his Titan as he lay wheezing on the ground after he managed to  somehow destroy its main circuitry nodes hidden inside its neck cables.  _

_ And his Titan never came. GK-2411 had believed Ira was bluffing. Ira was well known for light pranks during their harmless scouting routines. It made sense that Ira- the one who was often kept in the dark about more gory details about failed missions and pushed to the side because he was nothing more than a stupid child- to be left alone in his last moments of silence. The moments where he stopped talking and allowed reality to crash through that careful barrier he placed the moment he had enlisted into the Angel City Elites. _

_ Ira remembered crying out for anyone, anyone, to save him when his shallow wheezes brought as much pain as it did when he breathed deeply. He was wounded- his breathing was getting watery and bile kept freely leaking out of his mouth. Stupid acid reflex. Another brief wave of pained shivers and- Oh god, what did he do to deserve this? _

_ Oh god-  _

_ He blinked and he found himself submerged in a shallow puddle, the sky dark and hazy with rain cleaning his face. His tears mixed with the rain droplets, and he couldn’t suppress his scream of pain when he breathed deeply. It was cold. So, so cold. The desert was known for this. When had night started? _

_ He was scared. He was alone. _ **Pathetic** _ **.** _

_ What would his mother think? What would his father think? _

_ Ira doesn’t remember much after that. But Barker had begrudgingly told him of what transpired after Ira fainted.  _

_ The general had found both Pilot and Titan, one babbling incoherently while the other was trying to dry off the other while trying to not put any more strain on his ribs. God knows that Gill will deny that he was being  _ **gentle** _ at that moment. _

_ The Titan was being so careful, even Barker was surprised the Titan was acting strangely. Gill never did that! He was always the one who gave Ira a firm flick to the head, indiscreetly tripping the Pilot with the tip of the Prime Blade, or making a mockery of the Pilot with clever wordplay in front of the Pilot’s elders.  _

_ But to see the grim Titan showing concern? Empathy? Barker had fully believed that the upgraded tech didn’t work. It was a simple subroutine that would always take priority right beside Protocol 3. Some sort of thing that made the Titans mimic empathy, or give them a reason to ‘care’ for their Pilots. After all, Titans who did not work well with their Pilots were often the cause for the growing rate of Pilot deaths.  _

**Ira had nearly been a victim to it.**

_ Barker made a move when Ira roused from unconsciousness with a cry, hands trying to stop the giant finger prodding against his side. The Titan immediately shifted its grip, simply holding the Pilot and keeping flying limbs still when it received the transmission one of the other Pilot’s Titan had sent to it.  The Ronin never handed over its Pilot, only repeatedly telling the small entourage that had come that the Pilot would be more cooperative when the human found that his Titan didn’t just abandon him to the whims of doctors (that Ira hated because they always gave him bruises during vaccinations. It wasn’t his fault that he had hard to see veins!). _

_ Barker told Ira later on, once the Ronin had long since left to go power down, that the Ronin was  chirping when it was caring for Ira. Even on the way back. It wasn’t uncommon among Ronins, but it was rare for the Ronin Primes. Apparently, it was a pre-factory setting code, a simple thing that could’ve been deleted at the Pilot’s command. Just a little vocalizer glitch. _

_ Ira remembers laughing with genuine mirth at Barker’s confusion when Ira had said the noise calmed him down. It reminded Ira of the birds that he had tamed as a child- fed stray ravens and little meadow birds the leftover scraps of vegetables and meat that Ira hated with a passion. Falling asleep to birdsong and the throaty caws of the midnight-colored fiends that liked to steal his shoelaces. _

* * *

Ira felt another feeling of deja-vu at the mention of ravens. Dark. Scared. Running. A stark contrast to what he had been thinking about earlier. His heart began to thud, and it was so, so quiet in these halls. Ira knew that the only thing covering the sound of his little heart was the heavy metal footfalls of Pathfinder. 

A fear response. Fight or flight. He had chosen flight. He was the prey...

Ira flinched at the memory of red eyes in the dark. An ominous feathered creature circling above, the croaky vocalizations striking a stab of fear into his heart. But Ira struggled so hard to forget the one sentence the masked person had crowed into the sky- their words seeming to have been blessed by the gods above with the mighty fury of all carnivores in the galaxy.

**_“I am Blóðhundr!”_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I'm so happy I finished writing this part. I got some half-asleep inspiration from an old video clip of me just chasing down Pilots in free for all and then taking mercy on one who wasn't intent on blowing me into smithereens.
> 
> GK-2411 will go above and beyond to ensure that his Pilot will not die again under his care.
> 
> (GK stands for the terms Gunrunner/Trigger happy and Kinect/Violent).


	7. Ignorance is bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ira finally gets clothes and lets a bit of his identity show. Even if most of it was a lie.

_“Human? Huumaann…? Human!”_

A voice was starting to break through his mental wall, reaching out and removing the metaphorical safety blanket he had laid over himself to fight against the increasing anxiety he was starting to develop. All because of that masked person.

_“Human!”_

And just how rude was he? Ignoring this poor person, whoever they are, just because he was too selfish to face the real world. His mother had taught him better than this. From the moment he could walk, basic courtesy and respect for others had been drilled into his head. 

_“I need your assistance, friend. This person seems to have lost the ability to hear me!”_

He wanted to just continue daydreaming. Forgetting about this world and everything that had transpired since the crash. This was a tough decision, besides, it sounds like someone else was here too. 

A combination of “ _HUMAN_!” and a hearty slap on the back meant for someone choking was more than enough to earn an unmanly-sounding yelp from Ira. Before he hurriedly scooted away from the two- reality not quite making sense and his skin stinging from the skin-to-skin contact.

“Jeez bro, you really gave us a scare there. Heh, I might’ve been tempted to use my stims on ya, eh?” The new man waggled a little cylinder device at Ira, his goggles glinting underneath the white lights. 

Lighthearted banter, trying to ease tension.

“It was my idea for that,” Pathfinder proclaimed, his screen proudly displaying a grinning emote.

A blunt statement, no ill will meant.

Ira decided that modesty was well out the window by now, but he didn’t want to expose his back to these people- He blinked and the newcomer beside Pathfinder was gone. A half-gloved hand and arm were looped around his shoulder before Ira had a second to wonder where the newcomer went, and a finger pressed into his cheek. 

“You look nervous,” the tone was not mocking, “do ya want some?”

Something looking suspiciously like a syringe was dropped in Ira’s lap, the liquid inside bubbling and...and green. Thankfully, the new guy didn’t notice the wide-eyed glance Ira threw at him. Or maybe he noticed and pretended not to. God. Did he just stumble upon a group of recluses who acted strangely?

“Eh-” He didn’t want to speak. When he had asked Pathfinder for help from the demonic spider-like robot, his voice cracked into an embarrassingly high pitch mid-sentence. And thank god nobody commented on it. Maybe that Revenant guy might hold it over his head in the case that they meet again. 

“ _‘Eh’_? What’s that?” The man giggled, taking back his syringe. “If you didn’t want any, you could’ve just said no.”

Ira just nodded mutely, then shrugged, his brain chugging miles an hour to figure out a good way to get Pathfinder to get him clothes. Clothes, weapons, Pilot gear and then Gill. When the new man began to walk back towards Pathfinder, who was conversing with himself (probably over comm.), Ira tugged on the metal belt thing the other man wore.

“What’s your name?”

The other man turned around so quickly, it felt like he gave Ira’s eyes whiplash. 

“The name’s Octane! Well, that’s my game name.” He extended a hand, firmly grasping Ira’s hand and shaking it. “Octavio Silva, don’t wear it out.” He let go of Ira’s hand. “And you are…?”

Shit. He didn’t have a name for this place. Maybe-

“Jævel, that’s what I used to be called a couple of years back. Officially Ira Kane, grapple Pilot at your service.” Ira was careful on what emotion or any sarcasm he let bleed into his words. The last time he didn’t watch that, Barker had Ira run the Titan sparring grounds forty times!

Octane rocked back on his heels, one hand twirling around the syringe casually. 

“Jave-al?”

Ira shook his head.

“It’s yah-vel. The word is spelled like J-a-e-v-e-l. Almost always any ‘j’ word is spelled like j-e-g, which sounds like y-ai. A random variation of ‘i’, or whatever.”

“Cool! You’re kinda like Bloodhound in a way. Unique language and whatnot.”

Ira pretended to feign confusion.

“Bloodhound?”

Octane nodded, pausing to stretch out his legs and jog in place before he spoke again. 

“Yeah, really scary person. They always wear a mask, and if you stay up late enough you might see them walking around the base at night. Mostly after a big battle, or right before we’re sent to the Games.”

Oh. _Oh_. 

“And what’s uh, Javel stand for?”

“ _Jævel_ ,” Ira corrected, “It’s basically a slur. It means _‘devil’,_ Depending on the context, it may also carry the meaning of "bastard", "fucker" or other… derogatory terms.”

Octane recoiled from Ira, a hand placed over his sternum in mock surprise. Or that’s what Ira interpreted it as. Then Octane pointed a finger at Ira accusingly.

“You made me call you a devil! If Ajay heard about this, I’d have my legs blown off again! Heh, but seriously.” Octane leaned closer to Ira, and away from Pathfinder’s superhuman hearing. “Don’t keep that name. It’s not good for uh, the Games' reputation. Especially if word got out about that. My old name used to be a mocking term of Legend, and I nearly lost most of my fans.”

Ira pursed his lips when Octane went back to standing imposingly in front of him. The fidgety thing he was, Ira mused as he watched the shorter-

Shorter?

Ira abruptly stood up and didn’t bother to restrain his impulsive actions, when his hand pressed down on the cropped, green hair of the other man. The hand then slid over an invisible wall and hovering just a millimeter over his own head. Short? Fuck. Maybe this was why they were here.

“Pathfinder?”

The blue MRVN bounced beside them. 

“Yes, friend?”

Ira gestured to Octane with a helpless look on his face. Octane just tilted his own head at Ira’s actions.

“Did you bring me here for clothes?”

A pregnant pause.

“Yes.”

Ira slumped over himself before he straightened up, a scowl on his face at his own immaturity. 

“I’m not short.”

God, his mother would have his hide tanned before he could blurt out one of His Sentences- simple phrases Ira had either overheard or liked the way it sounded. Like the one he just proclaimed and if it wasn’t for Octane’s mirth at Ira’s sudden change in tone, Ira probably would have beaten both of them into the ground out of embarrassment.

Octane clapped a hand on Ira’s shoulder, “Well out of everyone here, you might be the second shortest. Renee comes right before you. Obviously, I’m a bit taller than you."

Ira just snorted and followed Octane, waving a dismissive hand at Pathfinder who had told them both that he was required to do 'something important’. What important things could a MRVN do? 

* * *

The duo found themselves at the barracks again, except Octane just led Ira to one of the first rooms on the left, and not the right, and right into what Ira might’ve had if he stayed home and did nothing. 

A large gaming console and TV, a computer, a large desk chair, vibrantly colored decor and bottles of half-empty energy drinks littered the room, and it suited Octane. ADHD rat that he was, based on his mannerisms and personality. And drugs. Gross.

Octane was busy digging around in a pitiful excuse of a closet, leaving Ira just standing awkwardly at his door frame, before emerging victorious from the fabric depths with a war cry. And then the metal rabbit bounced over to Ira and promptly shoved several articles of clothing into his arms. Octane flashed Ira a wink from underneath the goggles.

“Hopefully that should keep you from freezing until you get your own. Because uh,” Octane began to do tricks with that syringe of his again, “Because you’re new.”

Ira nodded, lips pressed firmly together.

“And a piece of advice, amigo? Lose that grim look. We’re not gonna jump you. At least, most of us won’t.” Octane laughed then, pocketing the syringe and closing the door behind Ira. Yeesh. That could've gone better, did Ira just look that pissed off that people didn’t want to talk to him? Who knew. Nobody had the balls to tell him yet.

He eyed the clothes he held, shrugging and deciding to find that bathroom he passed earlier. He needed a mirror for this type of shit. 

* * *

He looked like he was fifteen again. Neon symbols emblazoned the sweater he wore over the bright green tank-top, matching with the cuffed shorts Ira had managed to zip up. Maybe if...Ira struggled out of the sweater, leaving him clad in something that reminded him of what he wore underneath the Pilot gear. There. This is a hundred times better than parading around with enough skin showing to put sex-workers to shame. Ira slapped himself for that thought. God, people risked their lives and health for a job like that. Even if it made them lots of money, who knew what went on behind the closed doors of a client. Think of something else.

…

Ah. His plan. What was it again? Clothes. Right. Done. He could check that off his metaphorical list. What was the next part? Weapons? All he really needed was a firestar and a simple R-201. With his little special upgrades to it. He wasn’t called “The Devil” for nothing, even if that name was the last thing other Pilots and grunts had screamed. Because their insides were on fire. 

If these ‘Games’ that both Blisk and Octane had mentioned earlier were simulations and not an actual battle, Ira felt like most of his list was accomplished-

“What the fuck?!” 

The Pilot startled violently, whipping around, and felt like offing himself at what greeted him.

Ira hadn’t noticed the woman walk in when he began to finger-comb through his ratty hair in the large mirror, but he did notice (just now) that the dark-skinned lady was holding out a small pistol at him. She waved it around amidst her angry yelling, telling him that men aren’t allowed in the women’s bathroom and vice versa. Oh. She was one of _those_ people.

When she paused to catch her breath, her skin flushed to a darker shade of (anger? Embarrassment? Things Ira felt every day?), Ira took that chance to explain himself. He held up his hands in a placating gesture, no weapons hidden on his person, something he had to do several times before. 

“I can explain myself!”

Another voice crack. If he made it back to his Titan, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. If Ira focused hard enough he could feel something Gill was projecting as amusement. 

The woman did not stand down or put her gun away, but she did narrow her eyes at him. Great.

“I know that men have to be in their designated bathroom, but I-”

“Wanted to watch women! Spy on them! Disgusting pigs like you deserve to rot in hell. Hope you watch your back. You’re a dead man-”

“Jesus- fuck, Ok.” Ira cut in before the woman could continue. “I hope I am dead if you ever decide to come at me with no evidence to your-” Ira waved a hand at her with exasperation, “your outrageous claims! If I wanted to spy on girls, I would’ve done so. I’m not a Scout for nothing. Stealth-” He was just digging himself a grave now. “Stealth is my specialty. Even in the bathroom! You expect me to feel comfortable in a place where all I did was get harassed and touched when I was younger? I normally blend in with a public crowd at the bathrooms because people passed me off as a little prepubescent girl with a deep voice.”

The woman’s mouth gaped open, like a little goldfish, before her jaw snapped shut and she stood back against the wall. 

“So you’re not one of those creeps?”

“No, I am not. I have my...reasons for not using the men’s room. I can’t even use a urinal,” A lie. “-and the men’s room is almost always disgusting. I don’t like it.” Now he was just bluffing out of his ass, just using those stupid excuses on the women he encountered at the gas station bathrooms.

He stalked forwards, closing the distance between them in just a few strides. Ira did not invade her personal space, but he did linger just on the edge of it. 

“So if you ever have a problem with this again, you go to Blisk. Call him or whatever. You got military contacts, no?”

The woman nodded, her gun now safely back in its holster. Good. Now he wasn’t in danger of just getting shot point-blank at the drop of a hat. But he had a feeling that this was supposed to be harder. She was taller and stronger than he, but Ira had wits and manipulation. It was easy to bend the minds of the emotionally vulnerable, playing with any memories that contained him in a negative light. 

“Now I’m taking my leave. Nice and slow,” His voice wavered a bit when the woman did not move from the spot she leaned on. And the moment he closed the thin door between them both, Ira let out a sigh. Of either relief or annoyance, he didn’t know. He just wanted to leave this backwater planet and go home. Was his mother worried sick for him. She always fretted about his safety the moment he proclaimed that stupid idea. Well, stupid to her but right to him. He ran a hand absently over his chest, running over his ribs.

Maybe Barker drank himself into a stupor again, under the illusion that he accidentally killed one of his best Pilots. Who knew.

Ira didn’t.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally posted this draft-
> 
> Oh well. Enjoy this because I'm probably not gonna update for a week or whatever.


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